'Twas in September I well remember to Dublin City we went by rail.
The day was fine and the sun was shining but it soon disappeared in a mist
of rain.
Jones's Road was the place appointed where 30,000 I'm sure were seen,
When the Leinster champions in black and amber line out 'gainst Munster in
gold and green.
The coin was tossed and the Corkmen won it, the Mayor of Dublin the ball
did roll,
FitzGerald to his post advances, and there goes Power to the Railway goal.
Dr. Grace is at once attacking, the ball he pucks to the Munster ground;
His brother Dick comes up behind him, two better hurlers can ne'er be
found.
Like lightening flashing our heroes dashing, that small man Kelly is on
the ball,
As the green flag raises we'll sing his praises, he beats FitzGerald the
Cork stonewall.
The game is fast and the pace terrific, Kilkenny leads by a single score
All-Ireland honours are in the balance, will they ever bring them back to
the Nore?
Ah! Blessed Heaven! There goes the whistle! Like peals of thunder the
crowds now roar,
And the Black and Ambers remain victorious. Ah, what could beat them beside
the Nore?
They're mounted high on their comrades shoulders, with honest sweat on each
manly brow,
And so I'll leave them, my hand is shaking, I'm so excited I can't write
now!